


Thunderstruck

by LaBelladoneX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AC/DC References, Air Guitars, Bullshit Advertising, Can you eat a loofah?, Draco Malfoy hasn't had sex in HOW LONG??!!, F/M, Inspired by Music, LadyKenz347, Modern Architecture, Muggle London, Prompt Fic, Tattoos, Valentine's Day, Widower Draco Malfoy, and the Oscar goes to...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX
Summary: "Even a tiny bit of deceit is dishonourable when it's used for selfish or cowardly reasons." Jeanne BirdsallDraco Malfoy is deceiving himself, lying to his son, and existing in a bubble of misery and loneliness. He yearns for love, for companionship, for something to make him feel anything but the sadness that consumes him. When his truly Slytherin friends turn to Hermione Granger, will she pick up their subtle clues and offer to help him?A story of new beginnings, second chances, falling in love, and air guitars.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 43
Kudos: 129
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	Thunderstruck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> I admit I stalked LadyKenz’s Facebook page as I figured a book, song, or film — anything that she has liked or commented on — might give me an idea to match the prompt she provided for this fest. But one video of her son rocking out to AC/DC made me laugh so much, I knew I had to set my story around it as it’s pure entertainment and destined to haunt him for the rest of his days.
> 
> Prompt: "I don't like you."
> 
> Pretty made by coyg-81, isn't it gorgeous? Damn straight, it is!
> 
> By the way, according to Harry Potter Wiki Scorpius Malfoy was born in 2006. I've changed this to 13th February 2000.

**Late November 2017**

Draco Malfoy stood by the window, staring at his dower reflection. He hated it here; he hated the coldness, the lack of comfort and familiar surroundings, the… how did the brochure describe it? _A breathtaking spatial calligraphy of steel, oak, and glass, reaching a crescendo of aspiring beauty in the modernism of a landscaped terrace._

Bollocks.

It wasn’t a home; it was a fucking prison.

In Muggle London. 

So far from the comforts of his wizarding upbringing and familiar surroundings, Draco felt as if he was trapped in another dimension. A cold, sterile hell of nothingness. This was a structure of angles and rivets, of cold lines and austere features. This wasn’t what a three bedroom, three bathroom townhouse should be. It couldn’t even be described as a house considering its rectangular shape and flattened roof, nevermind the fucking spatial calligraphy. 

He sighed heavily and stepped away from the window, the lights of modern day London fading as he turned to face his bedroom. Even there his eyes were harrassed by reflective surfaces and mirrored doors. He yearned for dark wood and thick fabrics. Curves and contours. Colours that soothe… Antiques. The smell of old books. The _touch_ of old books. Here he was surrounded by the newness of cutting edges, trapped by modern technology he didn’t understand, drowning in greys and a thousand shades of off-white.

What bloody reason did he have for coming here?

His son; the most precious, most loved, most important person in his whole world. The one he gave up everything for, despite his desperate longing for home.

Scorpius was all Draco had — the only one left to remind him he ever had a family at all since Lucius was long dead and an arranged marriage to a childhood friend, unknowingly cursed by poisonous blood, had left him a twenty-year-old widowed father with no idea how to manage. Narcissa had been his rock, supporting her son and grandson through the tears and laughter until she succumbed to the tumour she’d hidden for as long as she could.

It was lonely at the Manor when Scorpius was at Hogwarts. There were no House-elves anymore, hardly any visitors, and virtually no laughter. Blaise insisted on dragging Draco’s sorry arse away from the imposing structure once a week but even he could see his best friend fading before his eyes. And even the charismatic and persuasive Blaise Zabini could only do so much.

* * *

**Six weeks before…**

_“Mate, sell up. Start over, somewhere else!”_

_“Where will I go, Blaise? The Manor is all I know.”_

_“Wherever your son will be happy, Draco. He’s miserable in that mausoleum. His wizarding friends won’t visit; he has to go to them. And it’s not even an option for his Muggle ones! Nobody wants to enter that place, man! Bad vibes are fucking oozing out of its walls! Since Narcissa… Well, you know yourself. Seriously, sell the bricks to the Ministry, the Illuminati… fucking Disneyland! Just. Leave.”_

_“It’s my home—”_

_“Malfoy Manor is no home, mate. A home is filled with love, laughter, hot sex, make up sex, kinky fucking sex. What do you have? A shit ton of books and nightly wanking with Ogden’s Finest.”_

_“I—”_

_“When is the last time you got laid?”_

_“Blaise—”_

_“Answer the question, mate. When is the last time Little Draco came out to play?”_

_“Not since As—”_

_“Are you fucking serious? You haven’t had sex since_ Astoria? _Bloody fucking holy hell in a handjob! How the fuck—”_

_“I was raising my_ son!”

_“Well, you certainly weren’t raising anything else! You’re a fucking born again virgin, pal. No wonder you’re a miserable sack of shit. That Manor is killing you off quicker than I thought. Fuck! Look, Draco, do me a favour. Move out. And if you won’t do it for your best friend, do it for Scorp.”_

Which is exactly what Draco did. 

And what led to his current predicament.

* * *

A deeply emotional, and seriously overdue, conversation the following day had led to Draco’s discovery that his son was friends with two Muggle teenagers who lived in Islington, not too far from Grimmauld Place. Over coffee in his father’s study, a tearful Scorpius admitted he’d been sneaking into Muggle London quite often, learning as much about life beyond the front door of the Leaky Cauldron as he could, and meeting Tony and Zack at a gaming store on Oxford Street. He was also enrolled at a Muggle university and was not interning at the wizarding law firm Draco had suggested.

“Why didn’t you tell me? And why haven’t I been introduced to these new friends?” Draco had asked. “I would love to meet them, Scorp. I just want to be part of your life, just like you’re part of mine.”

“Teaching me about Malfoy Industries is one thing. Me learning the ropes is my destiny... my future. And I accept that; I do,” Scorpius agreed. “That’s the Malfoy part of our family, right? But—” he sighed heavily, his fingers nervously tapping against his porcelain cup “—I… I want to talk about the _dad_ part. That’s the part that worries me. Do you know _how_ to be a dad? Do you know how to relax? Chill? Live a bit? And do you _seriously_ believe you would welcome Muggles into this house? I mean, weren’t Muggles tortured here when—”

“Alright, alright!” Draco raised his hands to block the memories. “We can take a break from teaching you about the businesses, that’s fine. But you could have just told me you wanted to visit Muggle London. I would have arranged for someone to go with you.”

“Like who, Dad? Blaise? I may be almost eighteen, but I’ve no interest in strip clubs and knocking shops, thank you very much. And, no, I’m not gay so don’t ask. I’ve plenty of time to find the one and settle down. She’s out there somewhere with my name stamped on her heart; she just doesn’t know it yet.”

Scorpius’ cheeks flushed; he knew exactly who _the one_ was. And from the look in his father’s eye, it was obvious he wasn’t hiding it very well. 

Draco smiled, his heart bursting with love for his son. “It’s a beautiful thing… being in love. Or so I believe.” He stood up from the table, walking around to lay his hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could confide in me, Scorp. I’ve been so busy trying to be a father for all these years, I’ve actually forgotten how to be a dad, if that makes sense. I never wanted to be like Lucius. But, when your grandmother died… I got lost.”

Scorpius stood and embraced Draco, trying desperately to show just how much he loved the man who had raised him, protected him — who had given up living for him. 

“Blaise suggested we sell up and move,” Draco explained, stepping back. “I honestly don’t think I could part with this place, but I’m willing to… to live somewhere else… with you. Somewhere you’ll be happier… if you like.”

“Seriously?!” Scorpius was stunned, his cool gaze suddenly bursting with excitement. “You’d _seriously_ do that for me?”

“Scorp.” Draco cupped his son’s face, the way he used to when a little blond haired boy needed comfort and an adult to assure him that everything was going to be okay. He saw a young man staring back at him — a mirror image of himself. Only Scorpius had the innocence of a child, not the guilt of a life full of bad choices. “I’d move the heavens for you. In a heartbeat. You’re my life.”

Scorpius blinked back the threatening tears and nodded. “Let’s go house hunting.”

“And you can tell me all about this university,” Draco replied. “ _And_ why you decided not to intern at Borgia & Báthory Solicitors.

* * *

Draco had let Scorpius choose the locality, the house, the Muggle attire for his wardrobe… the lot. They settled in quickly, all thanks to the enthusiastic teenager who took charge of everything from colour schemes and curtain fabric to the smart appliances and choice of washing up liquid. Never in his life had Draco been so far out of his depth and, considering who had taken up residence in his home twenty years before, that was really saying something.

He didn’t want to admit this to his son but he was genuinely terrified to venture outside of the front door. He knew nothing of the Muggle world — how to behave, or interact, where to go… what to do. The last thing he wanted was for Scorpius to discover his weakness so he pretended that his days were spent out and about, lunching with new Muggle friends, dealing with Muggle banks and potential Muggle clients, attending Muggle gallery openings, and socialising in Muggle wine bars. 

Scorpius was thrilled. It was all he wanted, to see his father living again. He worried that Draco would fade away whilst he was at university, studying economics and accounting in the hope of introducing Malfoy Industries to the Muggle world. But, if Draco was already in the process of doing just that, well… happy days! 

Oh, Draco was working hard for Malfoy Industries alright. He attended meeting after meeting, wined and dined, networked and charmed… all within the confines of Malfoy Manor and Diagon Alley. He kept a close eye on Scorpius’ timetable so he’d know when to be in the townhouse and when he could escape back to the wizarding world. He knew he couldn’t keep up the charade forever but, as time went on and the lies got harder, the thoughts of telling his son the truth began to claw at his gut.

He was almost caught out when, describing a gallery opening to Scorpius and his two friends, he was informed Tony had also been in attendance — his second cousin, or something, was the artist in residence — and hadn’t seen Draco anywhere in the venue. Quick thinking — or maybe pure desperation — led Draco to admit he had snuck away with one of the guests for some… intimate discussions. 

Scorpius had thrown his head back and laughed, clapping his father on the back, and congratulating him for “getting back in the race”. Draco feebly returned the gesture, his heart pounding, and his stomach churning with guilt. 

He had to come clean, before he got found out. 

Or an ulcer.

* * *

**Late November 2017**

“Dad? You around?”

“Bedroom, Scorp!” _Wondering how to get out of this fucking mess._

Draco turned away from his reflection, trying to ignore the tired eyes and worn out expression. He took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face, and waited for the arrival of his son — which would be any second now, based on the sound of bounding leaps charging up the stairs. 

“Hey!” Scorpius announced, entering the room and throwing himself across Draco’s bed. “Plans are all set for my birthday. You’re still free, right?”

“Of course, but it’s over two months away. Why the rush?”

There had been a brief conversation about spending time together on the night of Scorpius’ birthday. Draco had innocently expected a private dinner and the sacred rite of a father introducing his son to Odgen’s Finest afterwards.

“Cool.” Scorpius sat up, leaning back on his elbows. “We’re going to the Sebright Arms in East London to see that all-girl AC/DC tribute band I was telling you about — Miss Adventure. So food and drinks there, followed by the gig, and par-tay! We had to get the tickets today, otherwise it’d be sold out.”

Draco paled but Scorpius didn’t notice.

“Right. Well… who’s going?”

“Me, of course, the guys, a few girls from uni. I was … eh.. hoping to introduce one of them in particular to you at some stage… soon.”

Scorpius flushed. Draco _did_ notice. 

“Really?” he enquired casually. “And who is this girl _in particular?_ Might she be the one you were blushing about recently?”

“I didn’t blush!” Scorpius exclaimed, turning an even deeper shade of red.

“You looked like a strawberry that had been dipped in cream.”

“Ugh! Fine! Her name’s Bonnie, Bonnie Scott.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk.

“Don’t you start, alright? Her parents are Scottish. She’s in my economics classes but majoring in politics. She wants to change the world, fight for the unjust, save the whales… she’s the whole package, Dad. She’s—” Scorpius lay back on the bed and covered his face with his hands, his next words muffled “—mmmsfkngnlvethhur.”

“I didn’t quite catch that last bit, Scorp,” Draco remarked, sitting awkwardly in the stylish but uncomfortable club chair in the corner of his stylish but uncomfortable bedroom. He knew exactly what his son was saying, he just wanted to make Scorpius suffer unnecessarily. It’s a parent’s right, after all. 

“I’m so fucking in love with her,” Scorpius repeated. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way before about anyone, Dad. The connection, you know? It’s like… magic. When I touch her—”

He poured his heart out there and then. For a brief moment, Draco’s body flared with jealousy and regret. No, he didn’t fucking know about _the connection._ He didn’t know the magical feeling of touching a woman; his relations with Astoria were carried out in a perfunctory manner to fulfill the wishes of their families, to provide an heir to the Malfoy fortune. To carry on a name and a hair colouring. He didn’t know what it was like to be in love.

He didn’t _fucking know._

“—so that’s alright with you then? Next Saturday?”

“What? Sorry, Scorp, I zoned out.”

“Next Saturday, Dad. Here? Takeaway? You can meet Bonnie. And you can bring that guest from the gallery opening, if you’re still seeing her. Bon and I can head out afterwards, leaving you alone to—”

“Eh... no, no. That’s alright,” Draco murmured, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of the chair. “That… eh… went nowhere.”

“Well, not to worry,” Scorpius replied happily, hopping off the bed. “I can’t wait for you to meet Bon. She’s the one, Dad. I know it. She’s the future Mrs Malfoy.”

Draco looked up, his heart thumping. Inside he was breaking apart, isolated by loneliness, crying out to experience what his son was so obviously feeling, desperate for the touch of someone who wanted _him._

“Well, then,” he said, his smile trying to reach his eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

* * *

The following evening was spent in the library of Malfoy Manor with Blaise and Theo, firewhisky in their hands, Draco’s dilemma on their minds. Theo was the first to voice his concerns.

“Draco, you’ve got to come clean with Scorp. You can’t keep pretending to be comfortable with Muggles and Muggle life if you can’t actually face walking outside the door of your own fucking home! It’s ridiculous.”

“And Muggle music rocks, man!” Blaise looked around. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Shut up, Blaise,” Draco and Theo replied in unison.

“Ha! Stereo!” 

“You think I don’t know that I have to come clean!” Draco’s eyes flared as he turned back to Theo. “You think I don’t know that my life is a fucking joke, that I’m existing only to run a business I can do with my eyes shut, and that every other minute of my day is as miserable as fuck. Yes, I’m lonely, and I’m fucking scared. I’m so fucking lost. And now I’ve to meet Scorp’s girlfriend on Saturday. I can’t mess that up. _”_

Theo took a moment before apologising. “You were always the confident one, mate. We all looked up to you, followed your lead. What happened?”

“Everything. Everything went wrong,” Draco replied, his gaze focused on the flickering flames in the fireplace. “I lost it all bit by bit. When that fucking _animal_ entered our lives, when I realised my father wasn’t even half the man I thought he was, when Astoria died, when Mother…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts before continuing. 

“We didn’t even love each other, Tori and I, but she gave me a glimmer of hope that I could pick up the pieces and start again. She gave me a life, put that life in my hands and left me alone to figure out what to do with it. I struggled along with Mother taking control until she was gone too. Now my son is moving on, and I truly couldn’t be happier. He really is the best part of me.” Draco laughed quietly, the pride in his eyes briefly shining through the sorrow. “You know, it never even registered with me that this girl he’s in love with is a Muggle. Not for a second. If only Lucius had… well, maybe things would have been different. When I saw the pure love in his eyes — the joy in his face when he spoke about her — all that _hate_ I had when I was younger meant nothing, even though it faded pretty quickly thanks to Gr— ah… nevermind.”

Theo and Blaise exchanged a look. They had an idea who Draco was cryptically referring to. Blaise raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he should push their friend a little further but his husband, ever the quiet voice of reason, briefly shook his head. 

_Not the time._

“So what now?” Blaise asked instead.

Draco bit his lip, chewing on the tender skin as he considered his answer. 

“Now I’m stuck in between a rock and a hard place. I hate it here, I hate it there. I hate, I hate it everywhere!” He widened his arms to indicate the space around him. “Who’d want to share this hell with me? Pansy won’t step inside this place anymore and Daphne goes to the townhouse to meet Scorpius. The only other women who ever came here, other than family or friends, were torture victims, prostitutes, Charity Burbage, and Grang—”

“Fucking hell! That’s it!” Blaise jumped up so quickly, Theo dropped his drink on the carpet and Draco’s wand was instantly in his hand. 

“Blaise! What the—”

“I’ve got it, mate!” The overly dramatic Italian exclaimed. “The fucking solution to everything!”

“A Time-Turner?” Theo raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Or perhaps an interior decorator?”

“Oh, ha fucking ha! I’m telling you, guys. _Sono un genio!_ Now, give me a few days, Draco. I’m going to take this handsome specimen of a wizard here—” Blaise pulled Theo out of his chair and pushed him towards the fireplace “—and between us both we’ll have you playing air guitar and hanging out in Muggledom in no time! Laters!”

They disappeared in a flash of vibrant green, leaving a stunned Draco alone in the shadows of the Malfoy library.

_What the fuck’s an air guitar?!_

* * *

**Three days later...**

“She’s not going to agree to this, Blaise. Can I have the cottage pie, Vera? Cheers.”

“She will, Theo. Do you think that’s tripe or a loofah?”

“She won’t. Blaise, you can’t eat a fucking loofah.”

“She will. Vera, looking beautiful as ever! Not a day over eighty! Is that tripe or a loofah?”

“I’m telling you she _won’t._ Don’t mind him, Vera. He’s just annoying. _”_

“And I’m telling you she _will.”_

“She won’t what?”

Blaise and Theo whipped around to find Hermione Granger standing behind them in the queue for lunch.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she grinned. “Actually, you can eat a loofah when it’s small and still green. It’s a vegetable, part of the cucumber family.”

“Brilliant!” Blaise turned back to the counter. “One loofah and chips, Vera! Grazie. Granger, how about you join us for lunch?”

Hermione glanced at Theo for confirmation that he wouldn’t mind her joining them. As an Unspeakable, it was unusual for her to be free at this time of the day and she tended to grab a sandwich at her desk whenever she could. Stretching her legs and taking a book to the cafeteria was a rarity, and the chance to spend an hour chatting about something other than work was a treat.

“It would be our pleasure, Granger,” Theo replied. “Mine particularly; it means I don’t have to listen to this twat all the time.”

“Oh, you love me, my little Sheriff of Nottingham, you know you do,” Blaise cooed. “Miss Granger, after you.”

They settled into a booth near the false window that was magically displaying a montage of farm life — freshly plucked chickens et al. 

“So what brings you up to the cafeteria, Granger?” Theo enquired, buttering a bread roll. “We don’t usually see the Secret Society out and about.”

Hermione laughed. “Once in a while they let us out for good behaviour so I’m savouring this Arrabiata like it’s my last meal. I may not see another one in my lifetime. How are things in International Magical Cooperation?”

“As diplomatic as ever,” he answered. “Over many years I have mastered the art of smiling and nodding.”

“And you, Zabini? How are—”

“Tesoro, per favore.” Blaise reached for Hermione’s hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“And there you go again,” Theo sang under his breath.

“What am I doing, babe?”

“Speaking Italian to show off.”

“I’m not showing off.”

“You are.”

“Am not. Showing off is just not in my nature,” Blaise pretended to sound hurt. “Now, where was I? Ah, si. Don’t you think at this stage, tesoro, we’re a little old for surnames? I’d be honoured if you would call me Blaise and, of course, my lovely little _luce notturna_ to my left is the one and only Theodore.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Theo is fine. Theodore sounds like I’m in trouble.” He turned quickly to his husband. “And since when was I your lovely little _night light?”_

Hermione laughed. “Then I insist you both call me by my name too. Although, if you don’t mind, please don’t shorten it. Harry and Ron have this awful habit of calling me _Mione_ and I hate it.”

“How are your two sidekicks these days… Hermione?” Blaise enquired, pushing his uneaten loofah to the side of his plate and helping himself to Theo’s cottage pie. 

“Still Aurors, still married, still raising children, still happy,” she replied, looking down at her lunch. “Still giving me a hard time for being single.”

“Surely it’s your choice if you want to remain single or not?” Theo frowned. “At the end of the day it’s really no-one’s business but your own.”

“Well,” Hermione sighed, looking up. “It’s not by choice, to be honest. I mean, I love my job, my friends, my… cat. But it would be nice to have someone to come home to, someone who can listen to me talk about my day and reply with actual words instead of the odd miaow. I guess I tend to get lonely at times, you know?”

“Tesoro, I’d marry you tomorrow,” Blaise leaned over conspiratorially, “but I’m already married, and Theo’s the jealous type. Plus he’s allergic to cats.”

“You’re very kind, Blaise,” Hermione laughed again. “But I think I’d prefer someone’s who not gay.”

“Pity, mio caro. We could have made such beautiful music together. _Bella musica.”_

Theo rolled his eyes at his husband’s behaviour. Blaise was both the love and bane of his life rolled into one. But Theo wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“Not everyone is into Muggle K-Pop, Blaise,” he quipped. “I’m sure your idea of beautiful music is far from Hermione’s.”

“K-Pop?!” Hermione winced, “Oh, Merlin, no! If it’s not loud and heavy, I’ve no interest.”

Originally the plan between Blaise and Theo was to go for the jugular — Hermione’s bleeding Gryffindor heart — and tell their tale of woe regarding Draco’s lonely existence, his fear of losing his son to Muggle life and not being able to follow him, the worry that his lies would be discovered etc. etc. Blah blah blah. They figured she’d swoon over the idea of a deep and brooding prince, locked in a tower, in desperate need of rescuing... and a good shag. 

Your typical bodice-ripper plot in real life. 

But a swift kick to Theo’s shin from Blaise’s dragonhide Chelsea boots indicated that he was going to take a different tack. 

“Loud and heavy, hmmm?” He pondered, his tone lighthearted. “Oh, no, if it’s not cute little Korean boys singing to me that they’re bulletproof, then I don’t want to know.”

He was met with two blank expressions. 

“Anyway,” Blaise continued regardless, “do you go to concerts at all, Hermione?”

“All the time,” she replied, “I travelled to Berlin recently with Ginny to see Rammstein, then we caught Korn in Melbourne as well as Slayer, em… Metallica in Rome, Disturbed in Paris, Muse somewhere in Connecticut — I was very drunk that night — and a fabulous AC/DC tribute act recently in a small pub in Leighton Buzzard. I’ll go anywhere to see a decent band and having easy access to international Portkeys really helps, doesn’t it? Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve lost you both, haven’t I?”

“Totally,” Theo deadpanned.

“No, no, no,” Blaise assured her, “I understood _drunk_ and _pub_. In fact—” he turned to Theo “—isn’t Scorp a huge… what’s it? AC/DC fan?”

Hermione almost choked on her food. “I’m… I’m… sorry, _what?”_

Blaise carried on as if Hermione Granger hadn’t just coughed up a lung.

“Oh, yeah, huge fan. _Huge._ He’s going to see a tribute band in London soon, an all-girl one… em… can’t think of the name…”

He tapped his lips with his index finger, deep in thought. 

“Miss Adventure?”

“That’s the one!”

“They’re the ones _I_ saw,” Hermione replied enthusiastically. “I’m going to see them again at the Sebright Arms in February.”

“D’ya know? I think that might just be the very place he’s going to. Imagine that!” Blaise nodded at Theo. “Imagine that, Theo.”

“Oh, yeah,” Theo replied. “Imagine.”

“I can’t believe it, to be honest,” Hermione admitted. “Malfoy’s son into Muggle music and actually going into Muggle London!”

“Oh, he does more than that,” Blaise replied, leaning forward as if revealing a deep, dark secret. Hermione automatically followed suit. 

Theo eyed up the desserts.

“He _lives_ in Muggle London! Attends Muggle university. Plans to take Malfoy Industries to the next level, both here and there. Wants to make a success of what he’s going to inherit by working alongside similar Muggle companies and invest where he can. He already has plans to takeover a few failing Muggle businesses and bring them back to profitable levels. Draco has given him a fund to start him off and, so far, that boy can work magic! And, guess what?”

Hermione was hanging on his every word.

Theo decided to try the cheesecake.

“He’s fallen in love with a little book store in Cecil Court, do you know it? Just off Leicester Square?” He paused, rolling his eyes. “Do you hear me? Asking _you_ of all people if you’ve heard of Cecil Court? Am I an idiot or what? Anyway, yes… this antiquarian bookstore is for sale and he’s put in an offer. Plans to keep the shop as a hobby and do a bit of dealing on the side, donate the profits to charity.”

“Oh, wow!” Hermione sat back, her eyes wide. “I’m honestly stunned, Blaise. What a turnaround. What does Malfoy think about all this?”

And the Oscar for Best Dramatic Facial Feature in a Real Life Situation goes to…

Blaise’s face fell, his expression suddenly sad, with just a hint of concern. For emphasis.

“Hermione, it’s heartbreaking. We’ve watched Draco wither away before our eyes and we can do nothing to help. We’ve tried… so hard! We’re so worried, aren’t we, Theo?”

“Oh, yeah. Worried.”

“What’s wrong with him, Blaise?”

“Well, I mean, where do I begin, Hermione! Widowed with a baby when he was only twenty, left to pick up the pieces after all that Voldemort crap, Lucius in prison… talk about a rough deal! Narcissa was his rock but then she died and he was left on his own again with Scorp. I tell you, that boy is a credit to him. You’d love him if you met him, wouldn’t she, Theo?”

“You’d love—”

“Anyway, he was wasting away in that bloody manor and losing his grip on reality. Scorp decided to go to Muggle university after Hogwarts and, before you ask—” he raised a hand dramatically to stop Hermione interrupting “—he _has_ encouraged Scorp to follow whatever path he likes. No questions asked. Draco just wants his son to be happy, you know? Have a life that’s completely different from the shite he had to deal with. Anyway, Scorp was spending all his time at university and socialising in Muggledom, he wasn’t visiting the Manor so often and he missed Draco a lot. We write to each other, you see. I’m his godfather—”

“Fairy godmother more like,” Theo muttered, waving at Vera for more coffee. Hermione burst out laughing as Blaise scowled.

“Hilarious,” he drawled, turning back to Hermione who was trying desperately to regain her composure. “Anyway, I started planting the seed in Draco’s head that he should move to be with Scorp. It worked eventually — they have some fancy pad in Islington — but, honestly, I’ve never seen him so anxious. He’s pretending to be fully entrenched in Muggle society and living the life but, in reality, he Floos back to Malfoy Manor and conducts his business from there. He’s so out of his depth; he’ll do anything for Scorp but he has no one to guide him when it comes to blending in and being more relaxed in strange places. And he’s let the lies go on for so long, he can’t bring himself to admit his failure to his son. Draco’s terrified he’ll lose Scorp because _that,_ I guarantee, would kill him. 

“And now, Scorp has organised a night out for his birthday to see this tribute band at the place you mentioned. Draco had automatically agreed to spend the evening with Scorp and his friends without asking any questions and, when he found out exactly _where_ he’d be spending Scorp’s birthday, he went straight into panic mode. Which, for Draco, is a large glass of Ogden’s and a hard, brooding stare into the fireplace. It’s quite sexy in a romantic novel kind of way.”

Hermione was quiet for a minute, taking everything in. Vera arrived to the table with three freshly brewed coffees and rolled her eyes at Blaise’s salacious wink. 

“That witch loves me,” he grinned. 

“Oh, my god! You’re like Sirius,” Hermione exclaimed. “Remus told us he fancied McGonagall for years, used to drive her mad when they were in school.”

“I hear she was a looker in her day,” Blaise replied. “Nothing on my Vera though.”

“Shit!” Hermione jumped up, grabbing her wand and bag. “I didn’t realise the time! Guys, thank you both so much for a wonderful lunch. I really enjoyed your company. Do you think we could do it again?”

Theo, surprisingly, was the first to speak as both wizards stood to bid her goodbye. “It would be a pleasure, Hermione. How about we make it a weekly event?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’d love that! Thank you. Also, Blaise, I’ll send you a memo later, I have an idea.”

“Va bene, tesoro,” he smiled, reaching forward to grasp Hermione’s hand and kiss the back of it. “I look forward to it.”

They watched her dash out of the cafeteria and head for the lifts.

“Theo?”

“Hmmm?”

“Remind me to get Scorp to buy a bookshop in Cecil Court and send the profits to charity.”

* * *

_Blaise_

_Thank you so much for such an entertaining lunch today. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time._

_The person we discussed, and the predicament they find themselves in, has been playing on my mind for the past few hours. I came up with an idea while you were explaining the situation but didn’t want to say anything until I’d weighed up the pros and cons of getting involved. There is history there, as you are quite aware, and I may not be welcome._

_I find myself intrigued by the younger individual also mentioned and, considering his desire to run a business so close to my heart as well as donate the profits to charity, I would very much like to meet him. But, to do that, I need to make amends with the first person._

_Easier said than done, right?_

_I’m not overly enthusiastic about visiting the original family home either. Do you think it would be possible for me to call on the address in Muggle London?_

_I don’t want to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted but I’d be happy to help the older person adapt to his new environment — if he is willing to see me._

_Hermione_

* * *

_Bella_

_It will be torture waiting so many days until we can lunch together again. I think Vera may have some stiff opposition for the role of my perfect woman, no? ;)_

_I knew your Gryffindor heartstrings would be tenderly plucked by the tale of woe it pained me to relate. May I offer some advice? Call upon our mutual friend — well, ex-nemesis in your case — at his original family home. He does his best brooding there, so he’s easier on the eye. Seriously though, I think he’d be more relaxed and more inclined to accept your assistance._

_Let me know what time suits to visit, I’ll make sure he’s home._

_And, Hermione, thank you so much for reaching out to help._

_Blaise_

* * *

_Scorp_

_Favore?_

_Buy a bookshop in Cecil Court, London. I don’t care which one! Make sure all profits go to charities — one of which MUST be House-elf related. And, if anyone asks, you’ve been planning this for some time. I’ll explain later._

_I owe you!_

_Blaise_

* * *

_Blaise_

_You’re so full of it! ;-D_

_I’m free this Saturday so, if it suits, I’ll call at 11am._

_Say hi to Theo._

_Hermione_

* * *

_Blaise_

_WTF???_

_Scorp_

* * *

_Draco_

_Be up, dressed, sociable, and sober on Saturday at 11am. Have the Manor ready for royalty!_

_You’ll thank me, man._

_Blaise_

* * *

_Scorp_

_You can have Theo’s signed first edition of ‘Sweetly Broken’._

_Blaise_

* * *

_Blaise_

_Done!_

_Scorp_

* * *

_Your Royal Highness_

_Sounds intriguing. You’re lucky I like you._

_Till Saturday._

_Draco_

* * *

Blaise folded Draco’s reply and shoved it into his pocket. 

“Oh, you won’t see me Saturday, mate. You’ll be seeing a princess. But, hopefully, you’ll thank me one day,” he whispered to no-one in particular.

“Everything alright?” Theo raised his head to see his husband staring into space and tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. 

“I hope so, amore,” Blaise replied, coming back to the present. “Oh, by the way, you know your first edition of _Sweetly Broken?”_

* * *

**The following Saturday morning…**

Draco waited until Scorpius had left the townhouse — something about book shops and Blaise “losing it” — before heading back to the manor. He was early but he had some paperwork to collect from his study anyway. 

At precisely 11am he was walking across the landing that overlooked the grand entrance when the old-fashioned doorbell chimed, its hollow sound reverberating around the walls. 

He stopped suddenly, staring at the back of the large hall doors as if they had suddenly announced their intention to elope. In all his years living there, the doorbell had _never_ chimed. 

Draco walked slowly down the stairs, his eyes not leaving the heavy wooden doors. The bell chimed again, causing him to shake from a sudden surge of adrenalin. _Don’t panic, Blaise will be here any minute. Any fucking minute._ Slowly he reached for his wand and, when he reached the iron handle that locked him in and everyone else out, he twisted it slowly, wincing at the loud wailing creak that sounded like fingernails down a chalkboard.

The winter sun caught the highlights in her chestnut curls — that was the first thing he noticed — and her smile was small, almost nervous. But her eyes… her eyes were bright and engaging, causing his stomach to twist in a way Draco had never felt before.

_“Granger?”_

“Hello, Malfoy.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

“You’re expecting me, aren’t you? Blaise told you I’d be here at 11am, right?”

Draco continued to stare at her, his stomach a mosh-pit of nerves. “Eh… no, he didn’t.” _Be up, dressed, sociable, and sober on Saturday at 11am. Have the Manor ready for royalty!_ “No, wait, he did… sort of. Please, come in.”

She stepped forward into the large hallway, looking around, and taking a deep breath.

“It’s a lot different from the last time I was here.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it is. Mother and I practically tore the place apart to redecorate. I promise—”

“It’s okay, Malfoy.” Hermione turned to see Draco still holding a door open with one hand, his wand firmly grasped in the other. “We have to let go of the past at some stage, otherwise we can’t move on. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

“Eh… why—”

“Oh, let me guess,” she grinned. “Blaise hasn’t told you why I’m here, right? He seems the type to stir shit.”

“He has trophies.”

Her laugh attacked his hyperactive nerves, leaving him stuttering again like a fucking first year. “Would… would you like some tea?”

“I’d love some, thank you. Although you should really close the door first.”

“What? Oh! Oh, yeah.”

“Malfoy… are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the doorbell. It threw me, that’s all. And, to be honest, I don’t have many visitors here. Blaise worded his note in such a way that I was expecting him, not… not _you.”_

“Well, I suppose he thought you might have refused to see me if he was honest from the start. He’s probably right. Anyway—” her eyes sparkled as she looked back around at the many doors leading away from the hall “—will we be having tea right here?”

Her mischievous grin was almost the death of him. Draco could feel his face burning as he indicted the way towards the Manor’s large kitchen. 

He took a moment to glance sideways at her as they walked in silence. Granger was still as beautiful as ever — he had always thought she was, even when he was tormenting her. Wild and unruly curls had been replaced by long, sleek curls that begged to be twirled around his finger. Shapeless robes and a hideously coloured uniform had concealed a slim figure with curves that would fit perfectly alongside his. Suddenly images of her lying in his arms flashed before his eyes and Draco found himself gasping out loud in shock. 

“Are you alright?” Hermione turned quickly, her hand tapping on Draco’s back as he tried to catch his breath. But the feel of her touching him — even through several layers of clothing — had him visibly shaking.

“I’m… I’m… fine,” he managed to choke out, “dust… mites.”

“Doesn’t your… _staff_ … dust?” Hermione chose her words carefully. 

“It’s just me here, Granger,” Draco admitted, “and Scorpius occasionally. I’m not the best at cleaning charms. I just do the basics, although I do cook. I’m not too bad at that.”

Hermione suddenly sniffed the air. “What is that delicious smell?” 

“I was baking some bread for lunch,” he answered. “Would you like to stay?”

_Fuck, Draco! What are you doing! It’s fucking Granger, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably going to fucking laugh in your face._

“I’d love to, thanks.”

_Oh, my God! I’m overly friendly! He was probably just being polite. Fuck! What were you thinking, Hermione? Oh, yeah. How fucking delicious he looks after all these years. Slag!_

Hermione sat at the breakfast bar and asked about Scorpius, trying not to drool as Draco spoke lovingly about his son. When he described the sudden plan to buy a bookshop and delve into the world of antiquarian books, she found herself fantasising about this changed man who made filling a teapot with boiling water look sexy. 

Draco’s hair was cut in a more casual style, tight at the sides and back, longer at the top. Occasionally it would flop down near his eye and he’d flick it back or run his hands through it, leaving Hermione crossing and uncrossing her legs a little too often. He was taller than she remembered, broader and considerably less sickly looking. Her memories were of a ghostly pale complexion and the weight of the world on weakened shoulders. Unlike her, he didn’t have laughter lines around his pale grey eyes; they carried a sadness she was suddenly even more determined to erase. 

And his lips… oh, his lips were—

“Granger!”

“What? I mean… what? No! Pardon?”

“Do you take sugar?”

“Just milk.”

She thanked him for the tea and took a small sip, hoping he wouldn’t hear the slight rattle of the cup when she set it back down on its saucer.

“So can I ask why you’ve come to visit, Granger?” Draco pulled a stool around to his side of the breakfast bar and sat facing her. 

“Well, there’s a few reasons actually,” she replied. “And, to be fair, you may kick me out once I’ve explained. I certainly don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed—”

“How about you let me decide how uncomfortable or embarrassed I _might_ be.” 

“Oh, okay… well…”

Hermione outlined her impromptu lunch with Blaise and Theo, and the conversation that followed about Scorpius and his plans. She then stopped abruptly and bit her lip, wondering if she should go on. Draco refilled her tea and encouraged her to continue. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’re going to like this next bit,” she winced. “But Blaise also spoke about you. I know we haven’t spoken in years, Malfoy, but… I don’t know, call it the bleeding Gryffindor heart if you like… you probably will. I want to help. I want to help you find your feet in Muggle London and beyond so you can spend more time with your son.” She looked down, trailing her finger around the rim of her teacup. “I don’t know if anyone knows this outside of my immediate circle but I lost my parents during the war. I sent them away with no memory of who I am — in case they were caught by Death Eaters and tortured — and then I discovered my charms worked _so_ well, their memories couldn’t be restored. So all I have are the memories and I don’t have the chance to make anymore. And when I heard about you, I thought about what you could avoid missing. I really am sticking my nose in, Malfoy, and I’m sorry. Maybe I should—”

“No, Granger! Wait.”

It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts — his eyes firmly on the teapot between them. 

“What would you like for lunch? I’m thinking homemade vegetable soup with freshly baked bread, followed by tea in the library. Does that suit?”

“Em… I really don’t know how to answer that.”

“It’s simple. Yes or no.”

“But didn’t you hear a word I said?”

“I did. But, since I’m going to accept your help, I think we should chat over lunch.”

His warm smile did things to Hermione she really didn’t need to be thinking about just then.

“Well, okay then. Let’s have lunch.”

“Excellent.” 

Hermione watched him remove his cufflinks and roll up his sleeves. Her gasp caught his attention. 

“So, shall we address the hippogriff in the room?”

“But it’s—”

“It is.”

“Why?”

“It’s not the real one. That faded to a faint scar. This is a tattoo, a reminder.”

“I don’t—”

“I figured, after it disappeared, that I didn’t deserve to have flawless skin. I didn’t deserve to _not_ have a constant reminder of my actions and poor choices.” He bowed his head. “When someone who fought for the light, like an angel of purity and innocence, is left forever scarred by a blade my side… _my blood_ … cut her with, then she shouldn’t have to bear that scar alone. And it’s red to remind me that your blood is the same as mine. We were never any different.”

Hermione was left speechless as Draco stood and began opening cupboard doors. He remained focused on the task in hand while she tried to comprehend his words and actions. 

Moments passed and he began to wonder if she’d say anything at all. Suddenly her small hand rested on his arm, directly over the blood red tattoo of Voldemort’s Dark Mark. 

“I look at mine now with pride,” she whispered. “Pride that we won, that we’ve had peace ever since. You should look at yours the same way. Be proud of the man you are today, the man who learned from his mistakes and acknowledges that he was wrong. Be proud of the struggles you’ve overcome and the ones you’re now going to face head first.”

Without a second thought, she reached up and kissed his cheek. 

They hadn’t met in almost twenty years, had spent less than an hour in each other’s company, but yet — in that moment — they knew something had changed between them. Something beautiful. 

Lunch was served at the breakfast bar and afternoon tea in the library. Hours passed without either of them noticing and Draco told his story from beginning to end. Hermione learned all about his marriage to Astoria, her death, his son’s upbringing, and Narcissa’s illness. He then opened up about the new house in Islington and his fear of stepping out of his comfort zone because he hadn’t anyone to show him the way. 

In turn, Hermione spoke about her career and her cat… because, as she admitted out loud, she really didn’t have anything else to talk about. 

“But surely you have interests besides reading,” Draco laughed. “Potions? Quidditch? No, ignore that one. Music?”

“Oh, yes! Music!” Her face lit up. “Suddenly I’m not so boring after all. And that’s why I’m really here, to be honest. Blaise told me Scorpius wants to see Miss Adventure in February. I have tickets to go as well, so I’d be happy to accompany you.”

“I’d like that, thank you. So what type of music do you prefer listening to? I tend to listen to the WWN when I’m here but, at the townhouse, it’s whatever Scorp puts on. He seems to like everything loud and riotous.”

“That’s the best kind! I’ll have to introduce you to Disturbed. And Rammstein. How’s your German?”

Their laughter was interrupted by a seriously pissed off Scorpius. 

“DAD! Where the bloody hell are you?!”

“Bollocks!” Draco jumped up. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s nearly seven thirty!” Hermione exclaimed, also standing. “I had no idea. I’ve delayed you—”

“Fuck’s sake, Dad!” Scorpius barged into the library. “You were supposed to be home for seven. Bon’s thinks I’m in the loo. Oh... shite.”

“Scorpius Malfoy, you will remember your manners. Apologise to Miss Granger.”

Scorpius flushed with embarrassment. “I am so sorry, Miss Granger. But it seems my father has also forgot _his_ manners and stood me up.” He proffered his hand, his grip firm and confident. But it was his cheeky grin that made Hermione smile. 

“It’s entirely my fault,” she replied earnestly. “I’m totally responsible for delaying your father. I’ll be off—”

“No, stay… please,” Draco spoke quickly. He didn’t want to lose her company, the hours spent with her had been… almost perfect.

Scorpius didn’t miss a trick. “Perhaps you’d like to join us at our townhouse,” he suggested, glaring at Draco, “Where my father should have been over thirty minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time.” Draco turned to Hermione. “You’d be most welcome. I’m meeting Scorp’s girlfriend and we’re getting a takeaway. She’s a Muggle so your assistance would be most welcome. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“I’d be delighted, thank you,” Hermione replied. “Shall we Floo over, or what?”

“We’ll Apparate to a nearby lane and walk back, pretend we were out and got delayed,” Draco replied. “Scorp, you go ahead and make sure you flush the toilet.”

“Right, see you in a bit, Dad. Miss Granger.”

“Oh, please call me Hermione.”

“I will,” Scorpius agreed, dashing out of the room. “AND YOU CAN CALL ME SEX GOD!”

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That was my son.”

Hermione laughed at his embarrassment. “I’m sure you did worse in front of your parents when you were that—”

She stopped short when she noticed his expression. “Yeah, well, maybe you didn’t. But it’s wonderful that teenagers can be so outgoing and carefree these days. That’s what we fought for, right? Yeah, maybe I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t mention the war?”

“Don’t mention the war.”

They made sure they were dressed appropriately for the cold November evening and walked towards the Manor’s boundaries. 

“You should call me by my name,” Hermione commented as they reached the gates. “I’ll call you by yours.”

“It’s going to sound odd,” Draco remarked, waving the gates open. “Hermione.”

_What would he sound like whispering that to me while he’s making… oh, shut up, slag!_

“Draco.”

_Oh, fuck! I want to hear her moan my name… ugh! Stay down, prick!_

“May I take your hand to Apparate us, _Hermione?”_

“Of course, _Draco.”_

Hermione stumbled as they landed in a darkened lane around the corner from the townhouse. Draco instantly caught her, holding her close, reluctant to let go. They stared at each other, their eyes locked, bodies moving…

“Would you hurry up!” Scorpius hissed from the end of the laneway. “I’ve had to pretend I’m putting the cat out!”  
  
“We don’t have a—”

“That’s why I’m pretending! Hurry up!”

“He seems very anxious,” Draco whispered as they walked along behind his son. 

“So would you be if you were introducing your girlfriend to her potential in-laws,” Hermione whispered back. “Ron was so scared that Arthur and Molly would be rude to Lavender, he threw up on her.”

“Really? I have no words,” Draco spoke louder. “I don’t even know—”

“We’re here,” Scorpius hissed again over his shoulder.

“I know,” Draco hissed back. “It’s my house.”

“Bon! Bon! Sorry, bloody cat didn’t want to go out. Dad’s here with his girlfriend, Hermione.” He turned quickly and stuck his tongue out at Draco’s shocked expression. 

“You little—”

A young dark-haired girl stepped out from the living room, her cheeks pink with nerves. “Hi, Mr Malfoy,” she began, putting out her hand. “I’m Bonnie Scott. Bon.”

“No way!” Hermione forgot her manners completely and laughed. “Bon Scott? Your parents must have been huge fans!”

Bonnie nodded. “They really were! Still are, actually. Devastated that Axl Rose took over.”

“Tell me about it!” Hermione agreed. “Worst idea ever!”

“Right, well… if I may,” Draco piped up, taking Bonnie’s hand and shaking it. “Sorry to leave your hand dangling there, Bon. Hermione forgets herself sometimes, don’t you… _darling?”_

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. That was rude,” Hermione grinned, reaching out to also shake Bonnie’s hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, Draco’s better half.”

The foursome abandoned the hallway for the warmth of the kitchen where Scorpius ordered food and Draco insisted on setting the table. He waved off any help by stating Bonnie was a guest and Hermione had had a long day at work. 

“Oh, what do you do?” Bonnie asked Hermione as she sipped her water. 

Thinking quickly, Hermione replied, “I work for the government in Research and Development. That’s all I can really tell you because of the Official Secrets Act.”

“Sounds super cool!” Bonnie exclaimed. “I’d like to set up a charity that specialises in teaching the disadvantaged to read and write.”

Hermione fell in love with her there and then, Draco was already falling in love… and very impressed with Bonnie, and Scorp was so love struck his noodles kept missing his mouth. 

It was past eleven when Hermione began to yawn and made her decision to head home. Scorpius and Bonnie had never left after the takeaway to hang out with friends; the two women were getting on like a house on fire and never stopped chatting all evening. Draco and Scorpius were both happy to sit back, listen, comment occasionally, and admire the view.

Scorpius suggested he call Hermione a taxi, winking behind Bonnie’s back. 

“Good idea,” she agreed, “can you call one for me?”

He left the room and stood in the hallway, counting to one hundred. 

“Fifteen minutes, Hermione,” he announced, walking back in. “Bon, would you like a coffee before I walk you home?”

His girlfriend took the let’s-leave-my-dad-to-kiss-his-girlfriend cue and agreed to a final coffee. They exited the living room quickly, leaving Draco and Hermione alone. 

“She’s wonderful,” Hermione commented, “he’s so smitten with her.”

“She certainly is,” Draco replied, “I think he’ll be petitioning the Ministry to waive the Statute of Secrecy pretty soon.”

“I wonder how she’ll react.”

“Wands crossed, it’ll go well. Anyway, Hermione, thank you for today… for listening, for playing your part this evening. Do you think we could meet up again?”

“Well, I never got to explain why I called on you in the first place. I’d be happy to accompany you to the concert in February but I was also thinking I could introduce you to Muggle London, so it’s easier for you to live here… in this ultra modern box.”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say that but it’s certainly not you. The Draco Malfoy I know would prefer something like Grimmauld Place with its olde worlde charm and built-in cobwebs. You don’t have a library here… it’s practically a sin!”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Scorp chose it all, it suits him. I need… something more traditional. I need a home, not an art installation.”

“Look, let me take you out and about. By the middle of February, you’ll be a true Londoner.”

“I’d be very grateful. Thank you, _Hermione.”_

* * *

**Various dates throughout December 2017 and January 2018…**

“What the fuck is this contraption?”

“It’s the London Eye.” 

“How high up are we?”

“135 metres.”

“What’s that in feet and inches?”

“Bloody high, Draco.”

* * *

“Where are we?”

“Hampstead Station, on the Northern Line.”

“How low down are we?”

“58.5 metres.”

“What’s that in feet and inches?”

“Bloody low, Draco.”

* * *

“What are those guards wearing on their heads? _Nifflers?”_

“They’re called bearskins, Draco.”

“Then why do they still have fur on them?”

* * *

“What are all these pigeons doing around here? There’s shite everywhere!”

* * *

“Who the fuck is Anne Boleyn? Bitch just tried to pinch my arse!”

“Shh, Draco. Muggles can’t see ghosts.”

“Good thing too. That one’s worse than Lavender Brown!”

“Did Lavender ever pinch your arse?”

“Well, no… but there were rumours.”

* * *

“What is this?”

“Fish and chips.”

“What’s wrong with the fish?”

“Nothing. It’s cooked in batter.”

“Isn’t that bad for you?”

“Hell, yeah!”

* * *

“The Lego Store? What’s Lego?”

_“SERIOUSLY??!!”_

* * *

“Why aren’t these people moving?”

“They’re models of real life famous singers, actors, historical figures… oh, my God! It’s Lady Kenz! I love her! I have to get a selfie!”

_“A what?”_

* * *

“Draco! Draco! Wake up! How could you fall asleep?”

“Shite, sorry. What happened?”

“The Phantom has just captured Christine. They’re travelling to the dungeons.”

* * *

“At least this bus moves slower than the Knight Bus. Pity it’s red though.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

“Last weekend before Scorpius’ birthday, Draco. What would you like to do?”

“House hunting.”

“Really? Where?”

“I want a townhouse… with character. Here, in Muggle London.”

* * *

**13th February 2018, just before midnight...**

The Sebright Arms was crowded, drinks were flowing, and Miss Adventure had everyone on their feet. Scorpius was in the thick of it, competing for the title of best air guitar player.

“I can’t believe that is my son,” Draco laughed, his voice raised so Hermione could hear him over the music. “If Lucius could see him now.”

“I never thought I’d see a Malfoy so carefree and uninhibited,” she teased. “You know you don’t have to stay beside me, Draco. You’re here for Scorpius after all.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll enjoy the display from over here. It’s safer.”

“Yeah, you’re right. His air guitar skills are rather boisterous.”

“They’re good together, aren’t they?” Draco tilted his head in the direction of Scorpius and Bonnie. “She suits his personality; they’re both as mad as each other.” 

“They certainly are a pair,” Hermione agreed, smiling at the young couple. “They remind me of Harry and Ginny in a way. Gin got him as he should have been — carefree and happy.” 

“And are you happy, Hermione?”

“Me?” She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m truly happy.”

“And what has you so happy?”

“I should think that’s obvious.” 

Draco gave her his full attention. “It’s not. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well, things that make me happy right now are this music, the entertainment that is Scorpius the rock god, this pint which is going down very well, and... I suppose I should include the present company.” 

“Present company? You mean the guy standing on the other side of you?”

“Ugh! No, he looks like Angus Young.” Hermione reached over to whisper in Draco’s ear, missing him close his eyes and smell the fresh apple shampoo that lingered on her curls. “Actually I think it really is Angus Young!”

“I’ve no idea who that is, but isn’t he a bit old for a school uniform?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think some parts of Muggle music are just going to have to remain a mystery to you, Draco. It’s easier that way.”

“So whose company is making you so happy then?” He winked. 

“Oh, oh!” She pretended to look shocked. “You think it’s you! Oh, no, Draco Malfoy. I don’t like you!”

He turned his head, his lips close to her ear so she could hear him clearly over the pounding drums and screaming vocals… some of which belonged to his son. 

“I think I can definitely say — at this precise moment in time — Hermione Granger, I don’t like you either.”

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes closing as she caught her breath. Draco’s voice was velvet, shivering down her spine as he continued to speak. “Do you know what time it is?”

She pulled her head back in surprise. “What _time_ it is? Why? Is it past your bedtime?”

“No, I’m just curious,” he smirked. “Can you tell me?”

Hermione glanced at her watch. “It’s just past midnight.”

“So that would make it... what?”

“Wednesday?”

“The date?”

“February 14th.”

“Which is?”

Hermione paused before answering, her heart beating faster.

“Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s right, Hermione. It’s Valentine’s Day. And what do we do on Valentine’s Day?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Don’t you? Tsk. Tsk. Let me tell you what we do on Valentine’s Day.”

Draco pulled her into his arms. His head lowered slowly until his lips were back beside her ear, his hair tickling her forehead. 

“We tell the people we want just how much we don’t _like_ them, how we’ve fallen in love with them, how we want to take them home and make love to them, over and over, until we persuade them to move in and share our lives. Am I going too fast?”

“N-no.”

“Good. Now, do you think you would be interested in any or all of those activities?”

“All.”

He stood back, the music flowing around them, the lyrics saying everything he didn’t but fully intended to… in a considerably more romantic way. 

_I was taking, no liberties_

_She's getting hotter off the heat on me_

_I was oiling, she was slick_

_Licking off the sweat, her favorite trick_

_Help me, help me please, tame this animal, and help me to breathe_

_I said no, no way, you gotta come with me, all the way_

_OK I'll play_

“Say it, Hermione. Tell me.”

“I love you, Draco.”

His hands cupped her face, his stare intense as he searched her expressive eyes. 

“And I you. So very much.” Their kiss was gentle, sparking just a hint of the passion that awaited them. “Happy Valentine’s Day… my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shake Your Foundations — written by Malcolm Young, Angus Young, and Brian Johnson — from the 1985 AC/DC album Fly on the Wall.


End file.
